‘Reflections in the mirror, in the sparkling pitter-patter of a water-streaked window’
Reflections prompt deeper thoughts on a week like this when one’s turntable of daily minutia gets whacked. Introspection is a good problem-solver unless you’re overwhelmed and bereft of the Quiet Voice that guides you. Of course, now you think I’m nuttier than rat poop in a pistachio factory…
Sail away into your own make-believe mirage a moment or two or ten, like I did last night while watching The Road. Interjection by the editor: “Sometimes I could sit for days and gaze through sleepless dreams.” (a head-spinningly amazing lyric by Styx) You think it’s all OK, getting up daily to make lunch, hope onto the bus and tumble into your nice office chair. Then a movie like this one hits, one that says you’ll never survive some apocalypse unless you know where you’ve been, what dreams and fierceness drive you. The man and his son trudging along the Atlantic coast, a solitary duo after the mom gave herself up to a calculating despair and gave up her son to the nurturing love of the husband. Deep, man, deep.
My own thoughts don’t often venture into that kind of gloomy wasteland, which is why my vision might seem puerile and shallow. Too much depth of feeling and judgment and I’d end up a driven man, like Hemingway with his cats out in the Florida Keys. Introspection is best when you can mull over the next boulder in your way. I figure we often aren’t daily heroes, just folks strong enough to jump one puddle at a time. Time to light up my next flaring insight (or blog entry) while the rainy filter is there to give me some depth and ideas.